Soldier (Talon, #3)(3)

“Doesn’t mean you should push your luck, mate.”

“I need your help, Andrew,” I went on. “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. But if you can’t see me, if you think it’s too dangerous, you can walk away.”

“Oh, piss off,” Andrew growled. “Like I’m going to turn in the guy who saved my life.” He sighed. “But we do need to be cautious. The Order literally has eyes everywhere. If they see us together, we’re both dead.”

“When is a good time to meet?”

“Today,” was the reply. “This afternoon, twelve o’ clock. I’ll text you the address now.”

“Roger that.”

I hung up, double-checked my door to make sure it was locked and finally stretched out on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My eyes felt heavy, but I needed to stay awake, both for the impending meeting and because the jet lag would kill my internal clock. I wished I had a pistol or even a knife, but smuggling either onto a commercial airline wasn’t possible. I’d have to get by without a weapon, for now, anyway. There was a bolt and a chain on the door; if anyone was going to break into my room to kill me, at least I’d have a little warning.

All right, St. George. I’m here. What haven’t you been telling us? And is it going to destroy the last bit of faith I have in the Order’s ideals? Will I discover that you are just as soulless and corrupt as Talon?

I almost didn’t want to know the answer.





EMBER

On three, Riley mouthed, gazing at me from the other side of the door frame. I nodded, feeling my muscles tense as we stared at the peeling white door with the gold 14 near the top, hearing sounds of a television through the wood. My dragon growled and stirred, sensing violence, and I narrowed my eyes. Riley took a deep breath and raised the pistol he’d kept hidden under his leather jacket. One...two...three!

He drove his boot into the wood, kicking it right beside the brass knob, and the door flew open with a crash. I lunged inside, Riley right behind me, sweeping the pistol around the hotel room. It was small and dirty, an unmade bed in the corner, the television blaring away...but the room itself was empty.

“Dammit!” Riley lowered the gun, glaring around the abandoned space. “Gone again. We probably just missed the slimy bastard.” Scowling, he yanked his phone out of his pocket, pressed a button and put it to his ear. “Wes, he’s already gone.” Pause. “I don’t know how he knew—it’s Griffin! When was he not a paranoid cockroach?” He sighed. “Right. Heading back now. Call me if there’s an emergency.”

I exhaled slowly, letting the dragon and her hope for retribution settle back reluctantly. “Now what?” I asked Riley, who snorted.

“Back to square one, unfortunately. Wes will track him down again, see where the bastard has gone to hide next. But it could take time, and we’re running out of it. Dammit.” He punched the wall, causing a hollow boom to echo through the hallway. “So close. Well, come on, Firebrand. Before the cops show up, let’s see if he left anything behind. Any hints as to where he’s gone now.”

We quickly searched the room, but despite it being a dump, Griffin hadn’t left anything that could be traced back to him, not even a crumpled receipt.

“He probably paid with cash,” Riley growled, after emptying the trash bins, looking under the bed and rummaging through the bathroom yielded nothing. “And covered his tracks really well. Damn him. Looks like he cleared out in a hurry—he knows we’re onto him.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know what’s more irritating—that he’s being a giant pain in the ass, or that he’s so good at it because I’m the one who taught him.”

“He’ll make a mistake,” I said. “Just like last time. Wes will catch it when he does. He can’t run forever.”

“You don’t know Griffin,” Riley muttered. “But, yeah, I guess you’re right.” He shook his head. “Anyway, there’s nothing here and nothing we can do now. Let’s head back.”

I followed him out the door, back down the hall to the parking lot. A dented black Mustang with tinted windows sat in a corner space, and Riley wrenched open the door, slid inside and slammed it so hard, the car shook.

I sat down and closed my door with a little less force, then watched Riley gun the engine to life before squealing out of the hotel lot. Light from the streetlamps slid over his angry face, his jaw set, gaze glued to the windshield. Leaning back in the faux leather seat, I sighed and looked out the window. Another small Midwestern town, ordinary and indistinctive, sat beyond the glass. We’d been through so many lately, I didn’t even remember its name.

I understood Riley’s frustration. The human we were chasing, Griffin Walker, had been one of Riley’s contacts before we discovered he’d been feeding information to both Talon and St. George on the sly. Griffin was the traitor, the mole in the rogue’s network. In Las Vegas, he had sold us out to Talon, and we’d nearly been killed because of it. But worse, because of him, all of Riley’s safe houses, all the hatchlings he’d gotten out of Talon, could be in danger. We had to find him and discover what he knew and how much he had leaked to the organization. But catching one human on the run was proving more difficult than we could have imagined. This was the second time in nearly a month that we’d gotten close, only to have our elusive quarry disappear yet again.